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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258707">Each Moment With You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/helianskies/pseuds/helianskies'>helianskies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Our Moments [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic, Fluff, Historical References, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Nationverse, Secret Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:01:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,922</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/helianskies/pseuds/helianskies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonio and Gilbert are in a young relationship which neither of them have the heart to tell anyone else about. But Antonio likes it that way, and reflects on his feelings for Gilbert as the Prussian wakes up from a much-needed nap.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Prussia/Spain (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Our Moments [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944058</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Each Moment With You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's silent in the room, in the house, in the street. Antonio lies still on top of the plain bedsheets, curled on his side, his eyes fixed on his hand outstretched only centimetres from his face. If he looks just beyond his hand he sees Gilbert, who, though sound asleep, has his fingers intertwined with Antonio's—the same hands he stares at. The paler hand rests on top.</p><p>Antonio is gently stroking his thumb over the other's skin, just lightly caressing his thumb in turn. Whether it's to soothe Gilbert or himself, he can't be entirely sure. What he does know for fact is that he looks peaceful when he sleeps, and that he's only staying awake to make sure Gilbert’s dreams stay sweet and calm.</p><p>They had done this before a few times in the <em> posguerra,</em> when the fighting was done and the world around them all was crumbling and fractured. <em> Burning.</em> Gilbert is the sort of person to not let anything defeat him, but <em> that</em>, the things he endured during the war and afterwards… </p><p>Antonio had seen him back then, on the Eastern Front. He'd seen all the horrors, and sometimes, when the sky splits above and the clouds spit their fury with bangs and rumbles, he remembers them, too. He relives the screams, the blood, the gunfire—at times it gets muddled with the destruction of the decade before—and he knows, he <em> knows</em>, that Gilbert does, too.</p><p>Back then, for a while, people would ask Antonio why he was so interested in Gilbert's state and wellbeing, especially when the Wall went up. <em> Why do you care? </em> they said. <em> What's it to you? </em> They finally stopped asking in 1975. Antonio has never stopped asking.</p><p>Next to him, Gilbert mumbles something in his sleep and shifts slightly, though he remains lying on his front. Antonio feels the other squeeze his hand, and at the same time, he feels his heart and throat squeeze with the same force. Part of him wants to immortalise the moment in all its tranquility and charm. The rest of him wants to envelope Gilbert in a tight hug and never let go, or to lock him away in Antonio's room, where they both are now, so he will always be safe. So he will always be protected. Some would call it extreme; Antonio thinks of it as precaution.</p><p>Gilbert is <em> Gilbert </em> when he's with Antonio. He's funny, he's (responsibly) immature, he's playful, he's a delight to be around—but add anyone else to the mix—even Francis—and the smallest parts of his personality change. He's <em> slightly less </em> immature, he's <em> slightly less </em> playful (Gilbert will, however, always be funny and delightful; no one can take that away from him). It's so subtle, but to Antonio, it's devastating. It's like Gilbert is scared to be himself; or worse yet, he's scared to let people in and <em> see </em> him be himself.</p><p>He loves him. Antonio loves him.</p><p>It took him so long to realise it, but he can't deny the way he feels when he's even just <em> around </em> Gilbert. Once, he'd pinned it on a change of the times, a change in the pace of life he led. Now he knows for sure, and he'll do anything to help Gilbert be Gilbert, even if only for a few hours at a time.</p><p>Gilbert moves again. He seems to be stirring, slowly and reluctantly waking up. <em> Good</em>, Antonio thinks, <em> it's good he's slept without any incidents</em>. And as he continues to caress the other's hand, smiling softly at the sight of the Prussian gaining consciousness, he feels grateful that he is able to actively support him, to cherish him, to <em> love </em> him. It's an honour. He's never stopped being glad that Gilbert chose to allow him in like this.</p><p>An eye pries open. Antonio extends his smile from the room to Gilbert, and reaches his free hand over to lightly play with the other's hair—the same slow, gentle touch he's used with him unwittingly for centuries. </p><p>"I hope you enjoyed your nap," he says as Gilbert proceeds to roll onto his side, presumably to look at the Spaniard. Antonio tries not to react to how much better he looks for the extra hour of shut-eye. </p><p>Gilbert hides a yawn behind his hand and replies in his quiet, sleep-riddled tone: "I did, thanks. Did you enjoy yours?"</p><p>"Mmh, of course," Antonio lies easily with a smile; he hasn't closed his eyes, save for blinking, but there is no need to tell Gilbert that. He doesn't need the extra worry. He doesn't need the extra strain. The brunette stops playing with Gilbert's hair all the while and lets his hand drop back onto the sheets. "Let me know when you feel hungry, okay? I'll cook us something simple."</p><p>"Aww, look at you, treating me to some good home-cooked food," Gilbert chuckles. His fingers stretch out to brush—to tickle—Antonio's cheek, who lightly squeezes the hand in his grasp in response.</p><p>He quips back: "I can get a microwave meal if you prefer, or a frozen pizza," merely in jest. </p><p>It's wonderful to see that Gilbert shares in his humour. Heck, it's wonderful to see Gilbert, period. <em> I love you</em>, he almost wants to scream, but he knows that the other already knows it; the proof is in the way Gilbert has lifted himself closer to Antonio. It's in the way he presses a soft, sweet kiss to the back of the Spaniard's hand. It's in the way he holds the hand close to his chest—his heart—and smiles at him with such warmth. They've only been doing this for a couple of months (two months and eleven days, to be precise), but to Antonio, it's as if they've been together like this for years.</p><p>“I’ll help you,” Gilbert offers, “we can cook something together.”</p><p>“You don’t have to, I don’t mind,” comes the Spaniard’s response. He’s used to cooking, he’s used to doing those sorts of jobs. “You can go back to sleep if you want.”</p><p>It earns another soft laugh. “As much as I love this whole <em> siesta </em> thing you do,” Gilbert says (which in turn nearly causes Antonio to laugh because he hasn’t enjoyed a proper siesta for a few years now. <em> No rest for the wicked</em>. Is that why they both struggle to sleep?), “I think I’d rather give you a hand.” Ah. Well that’s thoughtful, Antonio supposes. “Is it strange that I kinda enjoy it?”</p><p>“What, cooking? Or helping me?”</p><p>“Spending time with you in general.”</p><p>“No,” Antonio assures him, “it’s not strange, because we’re supposed to be in a young, happy, <em> wild </em> relationship together.” Or maybe that is the romantic in him talking. “I’d be concerned if you <em> didn’t </em> enjoy my company. And as if you haven’t been my friend for literally centuries, anyway!”</p><p>Of course they joke about that. Gilbert rolls his eyes and lets Antonio’s hand go, turning over onto his back as he breathes in and out and stretches a little. Tiredness clings to him like a shadow. Like regret. Antonio moves, too—he moves on top of Gilbert and lies down carefully so that his head can rest on the other's shoulder and their legs easily tangle. It feels nice. Gilbert plays with his hair now instead, and he knows that neither of them truly want to get up.</p><p>Antonio's regret is not finding it in himself to tell Gilbert how he felt—how he <em> feels</em>—sooner. <em> I wonder if Gilbert regrets anything like that.</em> He decides against taking the initiative to ask. It's not relevant.</p><p>As they continue to silently embrace, Antonio finds his way to the crook of Gilbert's neck and tucks himself into the space. He could breathe the other in as greedily as he does air, but he doesn't; not a single moment is taken for granted between them. Perhaps that's why he starts to kiss him there, too. Perhaps that's why his lips move from the top of his jawline and down towards his throat. Perhaps that's why Gilbert, amidst the affections, holds onto him a bit tighter, a bit closer, and they almost seem ready to repeat the fun from the night before.</p><p>But, they're a little too lazy for that right now. They're content in cuddling, in sharing each other's warmth.</p><p>Bliss is what he calls it. Pure bliss. He wishes he could always be this lazy, that he could always take time out of his day to lie down with the other and just… <em> be</em>. He hopes Gilbert feels the same.</p><p>After a few minutes, they're interrupted by a buzzing phone on the bedside table. Antonio's. <em> Joder</em>. He whines and mumbles to himself as he fights off Gilbert so he can see who on earth is calling him, and when he sees that it's Francis' name on the screen, Antonio struggles for a moment to think. He could answer. He could tell him where he is, who he's with. But instead, he blocks the call and puts his phone on silent. Arms snake loosely around his waist as Gilbert settles his chin on Antonio's shoulder.</p><p>"Everything okay?" he asks him, as though he couldn't guess who it had been, or that he didn't even get a glimpse of the bright phone screen.</p><p>"It's fine," Antonio assures him all the while. He leans back into the Prussian and slowly breathes out, his hands falling on top of Gilbert's. "I just wish that us being together was a little bit easier. You know?"</p><p>"I know. Don't worry." Gilbert frees a hand to ruffle the other's hair, before he finds the opportunity to press into the nape of his neck and leave a kiss on warm skin. It's soft, almost ticklish. "We'll tell him one day soon, I promise you. When the time is right. We'll sit Francis down, and we'll tell him."</p><p>But that is the thing. Antonio doesn't <em>want</em> to tell him; he wants Gilbert for himself without anyone else sticking their noses in. He's done his years playing husband, having royal courts watch him either warily or pointedly, having to tell people every little detail of what he was doing with whom and when. He doesn't want it anymore. He just wants him, Gilbert, and a whole lot of peace.</p><p>Is that so much to ask?</p><p>For now, he doesn't dwell on it too much. Instead, Gilbert coerces him to lie back down and they spend another chunk of time indulging themselves in each other's company, ignoring the outside world. Antonio has five missed calls by the time he finally decides to check his phone again. <em>Francis, Francis, Francis</em>. Antonio wonders if he knows, if he's suspicious as to what they're doing behind his back. </p><p><em> Let him be,</em> he thinks to himself as they finally make a start on cooking together, <em> there's only one person I care about</em>. And there Gilbert is, hooking his phone up to the bluetooth so he can blast his music while they cook. Though, knowing the Prussian, what it will lead to instead is singing and dancing, prancing around the place like a child, maybe having a drink to help loosen up, and making each second count while he still has them. </p><p>Antonio is keen to do the same, to tell the truth. And as long as he has Gilbert with him, he knows those seconds spent singing and dancing will be some of the most precious seconds he's ever had the pleasure of living.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PruSpa fluff with a hint of Antonio being clingy. Yes, clingy. Not 'possessive'. Clingy. He's just a concerned (boy)friend who wants the best for Gilly, that's all. </p><p>Hope you enjoyed this tidbit, I dare say that Prussia and Spain might just be my favourite pairing, so call it self-indulgence. I wrote this late one night and just decided to finish it off so, yea. It might not be long or too substantial, but I still love it :')</p></blockquote></div></div>
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